The Brightest Fell
by Evy Darkwood
Summary: Stardust AU. When Mary Winchester fell ill, her sons decided to catch a falling star to heal her. It would probably be easier without witches hunting them, flying pirates, a funny blue sparrow and mysterious travelers. It would also be easier if said star wasn't so grumpy and with that ridiculous bed-hair.
1. Never Wish upon a Star

**The brightest fell**

_Soooo… I have an exam coming. I should study. _

_BUT I just re-watched Stardust a few days ago, and it hit me I've never read a Supernatural Stardust AU. So here we are! I don't know if it has ever been done... but I couldn't get the story out of my mind. Obviously Castiel is the fallen star, and Tristan is sometimes Dean, sometimes Sam, but since I don't want to reuse the movie's plot that should be it._

_The title is from a Shakespeare quote: "_Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell._"_

_Please review? I love feedback! It would made me very very happy!_

_I don't own Supernatural, nor Stardust or the quotes at the beginning of the chapters, and I'm not going to gain money from this story._

_Rating: T_

_Summary: When Mary Winchester fell ill, her sons decided to catch a falling star to heal her. It would probably be easier without witches hunting them, flying pirates, a funny blue sparrow and mysterious travelers. It would also be easier if said star wasn't so grumpy and with that ridiculous bed-hair._

* * *

**Chapter one: Never wish upon a star**

"_Never wish. Especially, never wish upon a star, which is astronomically stupid." – Terry Pratchett_

* * *

A long time ago, so long people almost lost even the memory of it, there was in England a little village named Wall. It was a tiny little village, with narrow streets and blooming flowers at the windows of every house. People was cordial, the sky usually sunny and the village prosperous.

In a cold winter night, though, there was a house where there was no happiness.

The house had been built almost fifty years before our story, by a man named Henry Winchester. This man had been a wise, kind man, a scholar and a husband, and he had passed away many years ago with his wife Millie, leaving their lovely house to their only son, John.

John was a young man, broad shoulders and dark hair, and he had committed the terrible sin to fall in love with the most beautiful girl of the village. She had shining blond hair, gentle hands and a silvery laugh, and her name was Mary Campbell.

Oh, wasn't it a scandal. A Winchester, poor if not for his hard work as carpenter, and a Campbell girl? Old Samuel Campbell fought with all his strength to prevent the union, but Mary ran away in the evening to steal a kiss from John behind the church, and John awaked with the dawn to go under Mary's bedroom and be the first to wish her a good day, and eventually even old Samuel gave up.

The newlywed couple renovated Henry's old house, and everyone used to say there had never been happier groom and wife in all England.

Samuel passed away before he could meet his two grandsons. Dean Matthew Winchester was born at the end of winter, and he came out without crying, with round big eyes open on the world and a handful of pale freckles on his chubby cheekbones. He was a sweet child, like rarely you see. Karen Singer, one of Mary's best friends and the smith's wife, used to say there wasn't a child as kind as this one. He always smiled to everyone, clapping happily his hands and grinning with a half-toothed grin when some villager cooed him.

He was four, and already walking and talking and running around with the Harvelles' little girl Joanna Beth, when Mary gave birth to Samuel Henry Winchester. It was not an easy delivering, even though villagers could already smell summer in the air. Mary bled and screamed, but she gripped her husband's hand and gritted her teeth. Sam was little for a newborn, tiny hands and round hazel eyes, just like his father, and when he cried at night (and he cried a lot) Dean managed to get inside the crib and curled himself like a comma around his baby brother, until Sammy stopped crying.

Both boys grew up in a blink. Dean excelled in manual activity, he was the best in his sparring class and he soon began to help Bobby Singer, the smith, in his work, to get some money home. Meanwhile, every teacher praised Sam's quick intelligence and kindness, and every one often said to John and Mary they had to be very proud of their kids. Dean walked Lisa Breaden to the village dance when he turned eighteen, and everyone said they made a lovely couple indeed. He offered her a flower and she blushed, all dark waves of soft hair and a white smile on her dark skin, and Sam teased his brother until Amelia Richardsen kissed the younger Winchester on his cheek, and he turned the color of summer poppies. John and Mary watched it and they smiled softly, dancing together with the light of the fires casting shadows on them. It was an happy, if simple, life.

Anyway, that is in the past.

Our real story began a night, when Mary didn't wake up. She had been unwell and fevering for a few days already, and despite John's insistence that she stayed home and took some rest, she had preferred to go and help Ellen Harvelle, who was the nearest thing to a doctor that the village had.

That fatal night, Mary came back as pale as snow, eyes glossy and circled with dark shadows. She had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fire place. Sam, who was now a ganky fifteen years old boy with growing limbs and floppy hair, shook her arm gently when Dean announced supper was ready.

"Mom?" the younger brother called. "Mom, dinner is ready. Dean made chicken. Mom, wake up."

Mary turned on the couch, her eyelids flickering slightly. Her skin was startling white and covered in cold sweat. When Sam shook her a little stronger, she turned again and coughed. Blood ran out of her pale lips, splattering her chin and neck. Sam blinked and then screamed in panic.

"Dad! Dean! Something is wrong! Mom, Mom, please, wake up, Mom! Dad!"

John jolted toward the couch, and when he saw the blood his eyes widened in horror.

"Dean, go get Ellen Harvelle." he ordered, sinking to his knees and taking Mary's hand between his as Dean grabbed his coat and almost threw the door down in his haste.

"Mary, Mary, my love, please answer to me." John pleaded. Sam sniffed, tears running down his cheeks.

"She needs water." he croaked. "She is sweating, she needs water."

John nodded, nuzzling Mary's hand and pressing a kiss on her pulse point. "Good thinking, son. Go get it." he said. His voice was strained, and he gulped. A sob escaped his throat when Mary coughed again, new blood leaving her cheeks and flooding out of her lips.

John wiped away it with a cloth and turned her head so that Sam could press a cup of water against her mouth. She managed to drink a few drops before she started to cough again.

"Here, I brought her!" called Dean, pushing the door open and almost collapsing inside. Ellen came in with her long steps, her gowns flapping behind her, and her daughter Jo followed and pushed the door closed to keep out the cold wind and the evil spirits that like to play in the night.

Following Ellen's instructions, John hooked one arm under Mary's knees and the other one around her shoulders, carrying her easily upstairs and in their bedroom. She didn't weight anything, like a little bird made only of bones and feathers.

Sam pressed his face on Dean's chest as Ellen visited Mary, speaking only to ask Jo to pass her some medical instrument.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Ellen tucked Mary under the covers and tilted her head to John.

"I think it is better if we speak alone, John." she said softly.

John left his face fall into his hands.

"Ellen, please… There is nothing you can do?" he asked, the very picture of a broken man.

Ellen sighed. "Alone, John." she repeated. Dean clenched his fists, tears running down his cheeks.

"We have the right to know!" Sam exploded. "What is happening to mom?"

"Dean, take your brother out of here." John asked without looking up. Dean stared at his father, then at Ellen, and he saw the woman was crying.

"Sammy, let's go." he whispered quietly, pulling his brother's sleeve. Sam didn't move.

"Is she dying?" he asked. Ellen tried to wipe away the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, without managing it.

"I'm sorry, boys." she answered quietly. "This illness your mother has… they call it the Red Plague. I do not know a cure for it. No one does. I'm so very sorry."

* * *

So, you see, my dears, it was a very sad night in the Winchester house, that night.

John fell asleep kneeling next to Mary, holding her hand like if he could have pulled her out from Death's claws just by physical strength.

Sam fell asleep on his mother's favorite chair, curled in a tight ball and sobbing until his eyes were too red and puffed to stay open.

Dean didn't fall asleep at all.

He had a spot, on the roof, where he used to go when he wanted to be alone. It was a very good spot. It was just above the kitchen, so that the stone was warmed up by the heat of the stove. It was shadowed as well, by an old oak that was where Dean had kissed Lisa Breaden for the first time and that he and Sam always climbed even if Mary always scolded them for it.

Dean blinked furiously and wiped his eyes with rage. There was a dull pain just behind his ribcage, and he pressed his palm against it, feeling a scream building up inside his throat.

It was not fair. _It was not fair_. He thought about his mom, about how soon her breath was going to stop and pastor Jim was going to say a few words on her grave.

_Not fucking fair_.

"Dean?"

Dean tensed up, but he didn't turn. Jo carefully climbed next to him and sat down at his side, her blonde hair curling around her face.

"Are you alright?" she asked carefully. Dean gritted his teeth.

"Fuck off." he snapped angrily. Best friend or not, he wanted to be alone.

Jo stayed silent for some minute, then laid back, her hands clasped under her head.

"When my dad died," she whispered quietly, "I thought the world was ending. It hurt to much to ever think about it."

"Does it even stops to hurt?" Dean croaked. He felt tears rolling down to his chin once again, but he couldn't bother to be ashamed of them.

"No." Jo replied simply. Her brown doe eyes were sad as she turned slightly to look up at Dean. "But… you copy, you know? It stops hurts so much, and you start to remember all the good things."

Dean hit the tiles with his fist. "I don't want that." he growled. "She is not dead yet. There must be a way to save her!"

In that moment, a flash of light cut the dark sky in two, white and pure before disappearing in the skyline.

"Look, a falling star!" Jo exclaimed, pointing her finger toward West. Dean slammed again his hand against the roof, and a bruise started to appear on his skin.

"I'm not gonna wish upon a freaking star, Jo!" he yelled. "I don't care about stars, and sure as hell they don't care about my mom!" An aborted sob shook his body. "Just… just leave me alone." he whispered.

Jo stood up with a sigh and pressed briefly her lips to Dean's forehead. They were cold and slightly chapped, and she smelled of smoke and of the poppies her mother used for work.

"They do say the blessing of a star can heal anything and everything." she said sadly. "Isn't a wish better than nothing?"

She was long gone, probably at home under her covers, when Dean's head jolted suddenly up, his body rigid with cold but his eyes sparkling with a new hope.

A star had just fallen. They said a star could heal anything. If that was true, couldn't it be possible…?

It was crazy. It was foolish and absurd. But… but what if…?

Heart beating fast, Dean climbed down the roof and inside the window of his bedroom. He grabbed his cloak and his bag, then he thought about it and took his short sword as well. He tiptoed in the kitchen and stuffed inside the bag some cheese and some bread and a little bit of ham.

"Where are you going?"

Dean turned abruptly to see Sam standing near the door, their father's clothes hanging awkwardly on his thin body.

"I'm gonna catch a falling star. For mom. To help her get better." Dean explained, because the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Ellen had said the Red Plague needed at least month to kill you. He could find the star and get back in a month. He could do it. Sam widened his eyes.

"Have you gone crazy?" he asked, taking a step toward his brother. "That's just a legend, Dean. Stars are made of burning gas. They have not healing powers."

Dean stared at the floor, clenching his bag and feeling far older than his nineteen winters.

"Sammy. I want to go." he said quietly. "I need to go and try."

Sam bit his lip.

"I want to go with you, then." he murmured softly. "You'll need me."

Dean shook his head and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "No, Sam." he answered with the same soft voice. "Dad will need you here. I don't want him to be alone. And the star I saw falling, it fell somewhere behind the Wall. They say it is dangerous there."

"That's exactly why you need me!" Sam insisted fiercely. "I can speak languages and I can spar!"

Dean stubbornly shook his head once again. "Sammy. No."

Sam looked away, his eyes shining again with tears. "Promise me you'll be careful." he whispered.

Dean grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him in a bones crushing hug. "I will, Sammy. Take care, little bro."

He let go of his brother and took his way toward the Wall.

* * *

No one actually knew by who, when and why the Wall had been built. It was as tall as a grown up man, and grey with time, made of solid stone and covered with green musk. It went without interruptions to miles and miles, and the only passage to the other side was a break in the stone at barely half a mile from the village.

This break was guarded day and night by a man named Rufus Turner. He was old and gruff, one of those blunt men who are so rare to find nowadays and who won't yield for anything. The villagers saw him rarely, despite his long life friendship with Bobby Singer, because he almost never left the Wall.

Such was the man Dean was currently trying to reason with.

"C'mon, Rufus, I need to get to the other side!" the boy snapped his exasperation waving his hand toward the grass behind the Wall. "I told you, it's for my mom!"

"And I told you, no one goes past this point!" Rufus growled, crossing his arms on his chest. "Not even for the Queen!"

"You're a stubborn old goat, you know that?!"

"Nothing I haven't heard, boy! Now go home before I decide to tell your father!"

Dean stomped angrily his feet and stared at the man, wondering if he could be able to take him down. Rufus must had to read his mind, because he waved his walking stick in the air and gave a long look to Dean.

"Go home! Hurry up!" he said, conversation clearly concluded.

Dean opened his mind to give the old man a smart answer, when suddenly a cry resonated from the river that flowed across the village.

"Please! Help! I'm drowning! Help!"

Rufus swore colorfully and jumped down his stool with an incredible agility for a man his age.

"Don't move from here!" he ordered before starting to run. Dean was ready to follow him and help, when a shadow coming from nowhere grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the Wall.

"Run!"

"_Sammy_?"

Sam pulled his brother on the other side of the Wall, and both Winchesters fell and rolled down on the grass.

"The hell, dude?!" Dean asked, panting heavily. Sam smiled, dimples lightening up his still red eyes.

"That was Jo. She isn't really drowning, you know."

Dean blinked and stared at his brother.

"You… tricked Rufus." he said slowly. Sam nodded proudly.

"Yep! As soon as you left, I realized you said you had to pass the Wall, and that Rufus was never going to let you… so I went to wake Jo up and she agreed to help and distract him!" he answered.

Dean felt a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

"You're awesome." he said solemnly. Then he frowned. "But now you are on the wrong side of the Wall."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Duh." he snorted. "I got my cloak, my sword, and more food. You need me, Dean. I just proved it, didn't I? Jo and Ellen and Bobby will look after Mom and Dad until we come back with the star."

"Fine, fine, got it. You're coming too."

Dean was now downright grinning. He clapped Sam's shoulder and stood up with a jolt. Time to catch a falling star.

When Rufus came back, mumbling about stupid kids and their stupid jokes and he was so going to speak to Harvelle about all of this, he didn't see anything but grass and hay all around the Wall. The brothers were long gone.

* * *

Many, many miles away from the Wall, the star who had fallen tried to stand up. He was cold, and he was confused. His leg hurt, and he had never hurt before. He had never been cold either. A pained cry escaped his mouth as he managed to sit up, blinking in the dark. A myriad of smells hit him from everywhere, smells and sounds and the texture of the dirt under his fingers. He had never heard anything before, never touched anything, never smelled anything that wasn't ozone and helium. He awkwardly patted a stone, marveling at how it felt. He had landed at the edge of a luxurious forest, and the strength of the impact had created a enormous craterous all around the star. He was covered with dust, and he felt so very cold, because the silvery vest he was wearing wasn't enough to shelter him from the wind.

"Well well, it apparently worked." said a deep voice. The star startled, looking around with wild blue eyes. A man came out from the shadow of a tree. His eyes were as black as charcoal, and his clothes were also dark. He looked up and down the star with an appraising look. The star swallowed (what a curious feeling it was!) and tried to shrink away.

The man chuckled.

"No need to be scared, darling." he smirked. "I know what you are. What's your name?"

"Castiel." the star rasped, his voice cracking like if he had never used it. And, indeed, he had never spoken to anyone before, not through words at least. The man grinned, and Castiel swallowed again. He had seen many men smiling, but he didn't like this man's smile.

"You can call me Crowley." the man introduced himself. His smirk became suddenly predatory. "But enough with the pleasantries. Girls." he called with a voice without any warmth, and suddenly Castiel realized they weren't alone anymore.

"_Take him_."

Three pairs of hands shoved sharp nails in the star's arms, and suddenly everything became black.


	2. A man is no star

_First thing, thank you so much for everyone who took the time to review, __favorite__ or follow this story. You made my day a lot better :) Since English isn't my first language, and I studied it by myself, to read that you people think my prose is good... well, let's say I grinned like an idiot for all day! Thank you, thank you so much!._

_Have fun ;)_

* * *

**Chapter two: A Man is no Star**

_'Man is no star, but a quick coal of mortal fire: who blows if not, nor doth control a faint desire' - George Herbert_

* * *

The two brothers walked. And walked. And then walked some more. Sun rose, and they were still walking.

Things were different, this side of the Wall. They _felt _different, the colors almost too bright, too new, like a pretty painting too perfect to be real. Sam wondered if it was maybe something in the air, some substance they were breathing.

"We should have taken Impala." Dean muttered, clicking his tongue against his teeth. It was an annoying habit of his, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"That horse is a nightmare from Hell, Dean." he drawled. "She bites everyone but you."

Impala was a young mare John had bought at the market. Strong legs and lean neck, her mane was deep black and her eyes dark and intelligent. Everyone in Wall agreed that she was a thing of beauty, but sadly she had got an attitude that, as Garth from the bakery had once put, was 'even worse than John's". Despite this, or maybe because of this, Dean and the horse had bonded and adored each other 'more than some married couples', to use Bobby's words.

"Hell yeah." Dean smirked, pumping his fist in the air. "My baby knows cool people."

"Whatever." Sam huffed, an easy smile curving his lips. "She kicked Dad once."

"Dad had forgotten to water her."

"She tried to bite Mo-"

Sam's voice trailed off, words suddenly heavy between them.

They kept walking. Around them, everything was green and flat – not a tree, not a house. Insects and bees buzzed on some wild flowers here and there, minding their business, and sometimes some bird darted across the sky above the brothers' heads. It was all very relaxing.

"Isn't it weird we haven't found a village yet?" Dean asked after some time. He had considerably slowed his pace, his cloak askew on one shoulder and his forehead damp with sweat. Sam wiped his own forehead, licking his cracked lips.

"I dunno. I need water." he answered. Dean waved aimlessly his hand. From his wrist was hanging the leather band his mother had given him for his birthday, and it gave Sam's heart a little pang.

"I think that's a spring." Dean said, pointing somewhere in front of him, where something was shining and dancing under the sun, like water under the light. "Let's check out."

They didn't take too much time to reach the water. It was actually a little pond of clear, crystalline water. Stones slick with water and musk shone in the sun, and the waves washed tiredly the shore. A eerie calm descended around them. Not even the insects could be heard anymore. Sam shook his head, feeling something like cocoon muffling his thoughts. His mouth and throat were suddenly very dry. He opened his lips to call Dean, feeling that something was not right here, but all that came out was a strangled grunt.

Dean knelt down and dunked his hands on the clean water, cupping the water and taking hungry sips. The water dripped from his chin to his clothes and his shoes, but he didn't seem to care and splashed his face with a satisfied sound.

"Oh, aren't they cute, April?"

Sam jerked his head up and stared at what he was seeing with his mouth hanging. Three women were lying in the water. Their long hair were soaked with water, and Sam felt a blush rising to his cheeks when he saw their shoulders and chests were naked. They were incredibly beautiful, with perfect skin covered with salty drops and lovely smiles dancing on their lips. But what was incredible was the lower part of their bodies: where the legs should have been, long, shining tails moved sluggishly just above the water.

The reddish haired mermaid, because they were _mermaids, _there was no doubt on that, chuckled.

"Sure they are, Carmen." she said to the dark haired one. "What do you think, Lydia?"

The blonde one dived in the water and came up to the surface at a breath from Dean. The older Winchester was still kneeling down, completely entranced by the mermaids, his mouth slightly opened and his hands still dripping with water. The mermaid smiled at him and patted his cheek, causing a swift intake of air.

"I'd like this one." the mermaid chirped. "My little Emma would like him, what do you think?"

"Sure thing!" one of the others, April, replied. She smiled, showing pointed little teeth, and waved her red tail toward Sam. "What about you, pretty? Aren't you thirsty?"

"He is shy, I think." Carmen yawned, rubbing at her yellow scales. Her nails were very long -more claws than nails, actually. She tilted her head to stare at him. "You don't need to be afraid, cutie. We aren't dangerous."

Lydia had somehow managed to get on the shore, and was now caressing slowly Dean's arms. Dean still didn't move, like under some kind of spell. Sam felt panic building inside his chest. He moved a step back, smiling nervously.

"Uhm, no thanks." he answered. "We... we got work to do, isn't it right, Dean?"

Dean didn't answer, even if he did slowly blinked. Lydia was now petting his chest, and his eyes were dark and out focus. Carmen splashed some water around and clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh, Lydia, April, look!" she said in a high pitched voice, pointing at Sam. "He has _dimples!_ I definitely want this one! Pleasepleaseplease?"

Sam swallowed and took another step toward his brother.

"No, seriously, we really really need to go..." he insisted, clenching his hand on the hilt on his short sword.

It was the wrong move.

Lydia's eyes darted to Sam's hand and they flashed red. She growled, showing her sharp teeth, and her fins angrily flared behind her back.

"He has a weapon!" she hissed, and she grabbed a handful of Dean's hair to shove him in the water. The impact with the cold pool, or the pain and the surprise, were enough to snap the older brother out of his stupor. He yelped and hit Lydia's nose with his elbow, floundering wildly in the water.

"Let me go, you bitch!" he snarled, trying to push her away. "Run, Sam!" She hissed angrily and clawed at his face, drawing out blood. He spat and punched her straight in the face, and the mermaid fell into the water with a splash. Carmen cried in anger and threw all her weight on Dean just in the moment Sam jumped in the water, his short sword in hand.

Sam ran toward his brother, who was desperately trying to breathe while Carmen kept his head firmly under the water. April snarled and darted in the water, sinking her claws in Sam's leg. Sam cursed and aimed with the sword for her chest, but she dived under the water, dragging him with her. Lydia resurfaced, her face a mask of blood, and hissed as she closed her hand around Sam's ankle. She was deceptively strong, and Sam could only scream as the two creatures managed to push him under the water. It was cold, and it entered inside his mouth and nose. His lungs screamed for oxygen, and his throat was in fire. Sam tried to fight the bodies that kept him still, but his strength was quickly leaving him along with the few bubbles of air that ran out of his lips. A dull pain pulsed inside his head as dark spots began to dance in the corner of his eyes.

Then, the hands and tails that forced him down disappeared. He broke the surface, coughing and panting hardly. Air filled his chest, and he tried to breathe it so quickly that it was almost painful. The water around him was muddled with dirt and his blood.

A thin hand covered in a leather clove grabbed his elbow and forced him on his feet. Sam let himself be dragged to the shore, where he fell with a dull sound. Dean was laying on his elbows, panting hardly, three angry marks bleeding on his face where Lydia had tried to claw his eyes out. He turned slightly his head and a little smile quirked his lips.

"You alright, Sammy?" he asked breathlessly. Sam nodded, and managed to sit up to stare at their savior. The read-head young girl stared at them with a completely unimpressed expression.

"Hi." she said to them. "Not exactly your brightest moment, there. What were you thinking, going near a mermaids' nest without some protective charm? You're lucky I've got charms enough to save your sorry butts."

She couldn't be much older than Dean, with a short coat and pants instead of a more traditional gown, and a dark red cloak barely brushing the grass behind her feet. On her chest, there was emblazoned a half moon with a red crown upon it. For one foolish moment, Sam wondered if Jo could have liked to dress like that.

Dean coughed a little more water and sat up with a grunt.

"Didn't know about that." he muttered, scratching awkwardly the back of his neck. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam. Thank you."

The read-head smiled. "I'm Charlie." A little flash of light darted above her head and landed on her shoulder. Sam was sure his mouth had made a snapping sound when it felt open. Charlie patted the light with a fond expression.

"And this is my fairy Glenda." she said, like if it was the most normal thing in the world. Sam and Dean stared at each other. Mermaids, fairies, in what kind of world had they ended?

"The hell?" Dean wheezed. Charlie frowned like if they were the werdos with a sparkling fairy dancing on her shoulder.

"Ok, let's get you bitches some clothes and then I think you'll have to explain me where the cat found you, because I'm willing to bet half my stuff you guys aren't from there."

She turned on her feet and, without a word, Sam and Dean followed.

* * *

Around half a hour later, both brothers were tightly wrapped in two dark blankets as Charlie moved around them in her tiny wagon.

Dean had never seen so much stuff hoarded in one single place, not even Bobby's yard back at home. There were swords and cloaks, shields and herbs hanging from the ceiling, books and old scrolls everywhere, feathers and pebbles in every corner, candles and gloves and bulging bags and some things he wasn't even sure he wanted to know. Apparently, according to Charlie (who was kind of a rambling person), that was her work. She studied and looked for magical artefacts, cursed objects and potions' books, and only to think about all that stuff was giving Dean a headache, even if he had to admit Charlie was awesome.

"You are some kind of witch, then?" Sam asked. Charlie laughed.

"Of course no!" she exclaimed, taking out a flask of wine and pouring it in a little pot that was hanging on a brazier. "I'm not good with actual magic, only tricks and books."

"Thanks God." Dean chuckled. "I wasn't looking forward for being changed into a frog."

Charlie pointed a spoon to his chest with a fake menacing expression. "Hey, not all witches are bad. I knew this girl once, Tessa. She was awesome."

Dean laughed nervously and Sam elbowed him.

"So, I figure you came from the other side of the Wall," Charlie went on chatting happily while handing Sam a steaming mug of warm, spicy vine, "because everyone who lives here in Stormhold just knows how to get rid of Mermaids. They aren't dangerous, if you use the right protective charms, but I guess..."

She pushed another mug in Dean's hands, and he took a sip, grateful. The wine was strong, and Charlie's voice became a soft murmur in the background. Glenda the fairy tilted her head and stared at Dean from her perch on a pile of crimson candles. She was a cute little thing, with long dark hair and dragon-fly wings, barely bigger than Dean's hand and with a feeble light coming from her skin. She made a tinkling nose when a blue bird, maybe a sparrow landed next to her. The bird chirped and Glenda patted its head, without stopping to stare at Dean.

"So, where you trying to get to Wall's Market?" Charlie asked. "Because if it's that so, you were going in the wrong direction. You'd have ended up right into the Black Forest, and believe me, you don't want to go there."

Sam shifted uncomfortably on the stool he was sitting on.

"We were... we are looking for a thing." he explained lamely. Charlie put her cheek on her hand and lifted a red eyebrow.

"Here? From England?" she asked. Dean made an attempt to a smile.

"Yeah." he nodded. "For our mom. But we have no idea of where it could be."

Charlie tut-tued, deep into her thoughts. Her sparrow flew right on Sam's hand and pecked his fingers with a chirp.

"Blue, leave the guests alone." Charlie chided the bird, but Sam laughed and the blue creature went to nest on his neck with an happy chirp.

"Ok, listen." Charlie said with her arms crossed on her chest. "I like you kids. So, this is what we'll do. I was going to pass near the market anywhere, so I'll take you there. At the market, go find a man named Loki. They say he can help you to find anything you need. That's good?"

Dean felt his face splitting in a wide grin.

"Seriously?" he asked, putting down his now empty mug. "You'd help us?"

Charlie smiled widely and gave them a wink. "Sure thing! Glenda and Blue like you, and my girls are never wrong about people. C'mon Glenda, go wake up that old horse, we can make it to the market for supper."

* * *

Just like Charlie had said, not all witches are bad. Some of them are good, and some others used to be good before they became evil.

Fergus Crowley, for example, hadn't always been into Dark Magic. He used to have a son, Gavin, and a wife, Naomi, many, many years before he became Crowley, of course. No one knew how or why he had became a witch, but his name was infamous in all Stormhold, whispered in dark corners and used in stories told around a fire in the middle of winter nights. But, even if he was now considered cruel, he hadn't always been, and maybe he wasn't. He was proud, and dangerous, and hungry for power, but rarely he was unnecessarily cruel.

Such was the man who had taken Castiel from the sky.

Meg Master hadn't always be bad, either. She had become a witch to follow her late father's wishes, and if someone asked her, she wouldn't have been able to explain how she had ended there, working for a witch like Crowley.

Lilith and Ruby, well, they were another thing entirely. Sisters, both blonde and cold like ice, they were there with Crowley only to gain power over the souls who populated Stormhold. Meg deeply disliked them both, but she was careful to not voice her contempt.

Castiel, of course, knew nothing of all of this, and he frankly didn't care. All he knew was that he had been lazily floating in the sky, looking down to some festival in Germany, and suddenly he had been dragged down, down on Earth, a force he didn't know scorching his body and suffocating his light, and he had thought he was going to die.

Right now, he was very much alive, and he was _furious._

How dared these... these _children _to take him from his home, to hurt him and tie him up? He blinked in the light of the sun, slowly taking awareness of his surroundings. He was lying down on the dirt, next to one of those mobile things humans used to travel (carriages, that was their names, he recalled). His wrists had been chained in front of him, and his leg and left side hurt even more than before.

"Roll him over, we have to check if he has hurt his back." Lilith drawled with a bored expression. "He's of no use if he dies for some stupid infection."

Castiel considered asking what use he was going to be, but he decided it wasn't worth to speak. He also had the horrible feeling he already knew. Stars lived forever, where humans were barely passing shadows under the sky. He gritted his teeth, wondering why they hadn't tried to eat his heart and gain eternal life yet.

"Why it's always me the one who get the crappy jobs?" Ruby grumbled, forcing roughly Castiel to move and pushing the slippery cloth he was wearing down his back. Castiel turned abruptly and growled at her, his eyes flashing angrily. His gaze met Meg's dark eyes, and he snarled, showing his teeth.

"Weren't stars supposed to be coy cute little things?" Meg drawled, chewing at a blade of grass. "I mean, he is surely cute, but he kinda looks like he wants to bite our heads off."

Lilith shrugged and took away her eyes from Castiel. Castiel took advantage of their distraction to grab Ruby's wrist with both his hands and pull her down. She screamed as he turned her arm and pushed her away, using her body to stand up.

A burning pain ran from his shoulders to his entire body and he fell again on his knees with a cry. With watery eyes, he watched as Crowley came next to him and pulled Ruby on her feet.

"Is it possible I can't leave you alone for a moment?" he drawled with disgust. "Lilith, put our twinkling star on the carriage. If he try anything, just force him to sleep again."

Castiel let himself be forced to walk inside the carriage, pain bolting across the nerves he wasn't even supposed to have. Lilith shoved her nails in his flesh, and he hated the pitiful sound that was easily dragged out of his throat.

"Bastard broke my wrist." Ruby hissed, holding her hurt arm with the other hand. "I swear I will eat his heart!"

"Charming." Crowley smirked. Meg rolled her eyes and helped Lilith to push Castiel on the carriage.

Castiel didn't listen to any of them.

He remained silent, waiting for the pain to leave his body. When Lilith and Meg retuned out of the carriage to speak with Crowley about some details of their travel, Castiel's mouth arched in an almost imperceptible smile. The knife he had managed to steal from Ruby felt cold in his hand as he pressed it on the rope around his wrists. The smile turned smug. These witches had just no idea of what they had on their hands.

* * *

_Next chapter, the Winchesters should finally meet Cas!_


End file.
